Distorted Shadows
by sinomin
Summary: Richard was tough; He was no coward! But, truly, what determines cowardice? AU fic with hints of RobRae.


Okay, seriously! I don't get it! I'm not THAT big of a fan of RobRae, and yet, it's so easy for me to write! Anyway, I wrote this not too long ago and decided to post it, so… hope you like! Please review! Btw, this is an AU fic!

Disclaimer: I do not own the Teen Titans

**Distorted Shadows**

"Okay, seriously! Stop it Richard! I'm gonna wet myself!" Xavier cried, howling with laughter. It echoed through the spacious room, and much to my chagrin, caught the attention of everyone else in the area.

"I'm not kidding, Xavier," I snapped, "I'm way cooler, tougher, _and_ smarter than you!" He snickered, but finally ceased his laughter.

"In _who's_ book, is an _assassin_ who _can't_ kill considered _tough_?" Xavier inquired, using unnecessary emphasis. He began fishing in his pocket before pulling out an open cigarette pack.

I faltered slightly before I growled in defiance, "I can too kill!" Xavier pulled out a match from his other pocket.

"Oh yeah? Please share with us, Rich. How many people have you killed this month?" He asked, striking the match on his shoe and lighting a cigarette. My brows furrowed. _'Let's see… If you… and this… do that… carry the one…'_

"Zero," I muttered. Instantly, every assassin in the grime-infested lounge erupted in laughter, and I realized all eyes were on us. I huffed, grudgingly waiting for the uproar to settle. It took a whole 34 seconds for the laughter to subside, and by then my blood was boiling.

"Now you see, Richy?" Xavier began, putting an arm around my shoulder and using his other arm to bring the smoke to his lips. A few seconds passed before he turned to me and exhaled deeply, blowing smoke into my face. It made my eyes water and wafted my nostrils, infecting my nose with the putrid smell. I held back the strong urge to choke on the fumes; I wouldn't give him the satisfaction.

Xavier continued as if nothing had happened, "You are not cool, you are not tough, you are not smart. You are a loser," He ended his statement with a cocky grin.

I seethed. How I wished I could wipe that smug smirk off his ugly face. Mom _had_ always said I acted on instinct…

_WHAM!_

Xavier was thrown off the ragged couch, his smoke flying out of his hands and landing on the uncarpeted floor. I took a deep breath and grinned, ignoring my throbbing fist. That felt good.

'Mr. Tough-guy' sat up, fire burning in his cold eyes as he glared his sharpest daggers. I grinned and crossed my arms as I realised his smirk was gone. I had literally knocked it off his face.

"That was a _very_ bad idea," he hissed venomously. I wasn't fazed. Someone needed to bruise his ego, and I was the perfect candidate.

"Really? Because I feel like that was the best idea I've ever had," I chimed, my smirk never leaving. Everyone watched us in silence; no one dared to interfere. They all knew I was playing with fire, and so did I. And everyone knows that when you play with fire…

You get burned.

_SMACK! _

I staggered back, mildly shocked at how fast he'd retaliated. My hand flew to my jaw, and I cringed. That was going to hurt in the morning. I looked up as I heard Xavier's deep laughter.

"Really Richard? One hit and your down for the count? I have to say, kid, I'm not surprised that, with that cowardice and weakness, your parents were killed," he chuckled cruelfully.

I felt something snap, while at the same time overwhelming waves of guilt consumed me and tears suddenly blurred my vision. A million flashbacks and memories submerged my mind - taunting me. Reminding me about everything. About walking with my parents. About the gang that jumped us. About hiding in the dumpster, listening to my parents' blood-curling screams as they were murdered savagely. About how I watched on, doing absolutely nothing. Nothing except hiding like a coward.

I leapt at Xavier, tackling him in the gut and bringing him to the ground with me. From there we began a full out brawl, exchanging punches, head butts, kicks, and jabs. We were quite easily matched, much to Xavier's annoyance. It would all come down to who would be the first to slip up, and for once luck was on my side.

Xavier's attacks soon became feverish as he began to tire, wanting to quickly end the match. I, who knew patience was very important in a battle, waited. It would only be a matter of time until…

_There!_ Xavier delivered an ill-aimed punch at my face. I easily eschewed the hit before delivering a roundhouse kick to Xavier's head, which had been left unprotected with his previous attack. It struck his temple, and Xavier grunted before crumpling to the ground, unconscious.

I stalked over to him, panting and bruised; we had really done a number on each other. I placed my booted foot on Xavier's chest triumphantly.

"That's for mom and dad," I grunted. No arrogance, no gloating, no joy. Just anger.

The phone rang, cutting through the tense air. I turned my head to the group that had watched us fight, making a face that clearly stated I was getting this call. No one objected, and as I walked over toward the phone, I relished in the fact that they would now see me in a whole new light. I had just beaten the toughest assassin in this whole building. Did that mean I was now the toughest?

My thoughts were interrupted as I found myself lifting the phone to my ear.

"Hello?" I asked. I suddenly noticed how much blood had pooled into my mouth and spat it out, ignoring the thick coppery taste worthy of a cringe.

"Hello. Is this the 'Assassin's Organization'?" a deep gruff voice answered.

"Yes, can I help you?" I inquired impatiently. I was ready to prove I could kill. I was going to show everyone I was no coward.

"I have a job for you." he started, "as you may have guessed. I need a girl killed, tonight. Her name is Rachel Roth, and I want her dead. I want it to happen outside, and preferably with a gun."

"Those are pretty high standards," I pointed out. The gun I was okay with, but it would be difficult to do it outside without any witnesses.

"I have money," he bribed.

"Why do you want this girl killed?" I asked, using the common questions used in procedure. I cradled the phone between my head and shoulder as I jotted the girl's name down, along with the man's standards on a nearby piece of paper.

"She's my daughter," he said. I reeled in surprise, and a ball of sympathy crawled in my stomach for the girl. The world out there was sick these days. I didn't say anything regarding my feelings, continuing with the procedure instead.

"Is there anything else, sir?" I asked. The next few minutes of our conversation consisted of payment methods and numerous was for him to send me a picture of the target.

We finally hung up after about 15 minutes, and I held up a freshly printed picture of the girl I was going to kill. She was around 15 or 16, with beautiful black hair cascading down her back, easily reaching her slim waist. Her eyes were a stunning deep blue, with a violet hue to them. I quickly folded the picture and slipped it into my pocket.

I then proceeded to walk over to the weapon drawer, stepping over Xavier's body in the process. Easily selecting a small black handgun, I slipped out the door, ignoring the looks of astonishment everyone was still giving me.

--T--T--

It was fairly easy to find her; she was walking alone through an empty street. I easily hid in the vast areas of darkness cast from the night. This would be easier than I thought.

Slowly walking behind her to avoid suspicion, I pulled out the handgun and aimed it at her, cocking it. Unfortunately, she heard the click of the gun, and whirled around.

As soon as our eyes met, a flurry of emotions overwhelmed me. My whole body froze with my finger still on the trigger, and my breath hitched. I heard her gasp at seeing the gun, and surprise became evident on her face. With wide fearful eyes, she took a step back. My finger tightened dangerously on the trigger, but I couldn't seem to fire it.

Her frightful gaze pierced through my whole body, and it felt like she could see right through me; see my fears, my weaknesses. I couldn't describe it. I couldn't even move; it was like I had completely left my body and was watching from a distance. All I could see were here piercing blue-violet eyes as everything else seemed to have succumbed to the shadows.

Then, I felt the cold metallic gun slip from my grasp, falling to the ground. It clattered loudly, echoing through the silent street.

_I couldn't do it._


End file.
